


The Room Underneath

by catsandladyluck



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Baz Pitch - Freeform, Fangirl, Gareth - Freeform, M/M, One-Shot, Simon Snow - Freeform, SnowBaz, The Leavers Ball, Watford, carry on, rainbow rowell, rhys - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 22:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9790244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catsandladyluck/pseuds/catsandladyluck
Summary: “Rhys and Gareth, the boys who live in the room under mine, are sitting at our table already, at the far end.” - SimonJust how thin are the floors at Watford? And what conversations are heard by the room underneath?





	

**Author's Note:**

> “Rhys and Gareth, the boys who live in the room under mine, are sitting at our table already, at the far end.” - Simon
> 
> A short fic inspired by this quote (; Enjoy!

_Gareth_

At first, we thought that maybe it was just stomping this time, instead of the usual yelling. But then what sounded like an entire wardrobe smacked against the floor above us, and the muffled shouting finally began. The ceilings are just _too_ thin.

“What do you think it’s about this time?” Rhys asks, propping his feet up on his desk and spreading his fingers across his face in annoyance.

“Probably just the usual lovers spat, of course,” I say, snickering and fiddling with my belt buckle until it snaps closed.

Rhys looks up from his hand. “I don’t _really_ think they’re together like you keep saying, Gareth.”

“Oh, yeah?” I challenge, pointing upwards. “Listen.”

Rhys rolls his eyes, but sits still. There’s quiet for a split second, and then we hear Simon screaming the words “fuck” and “Baz”.

“‘Oh!’” I say in a rather high pitched, mocking voice. “‘Why don’t you ever want to fuck me, Baz?’”

Rhys snickers, like he always does at my awful impersonations. We then hear a very muffled “fuck you” from Basilton, along with another string of incomprehensible words.

“‘Of course I want to fuck you, Snow,’” I say, my voice now deep. “‘You just know how insatiable I am!’”

“I think he said ‘insufficient’, Gareth,” Rhys responded, even though he was in full laughter now.

“Well, maybe Simon is insufficient for Basilton,” I say, beaming. “Either way.”

“Gareth, _really_ ,” he says, rolling his eyes. “No couple truly fights _that_ much. They can’t actually be together.”

“Care to place a wager?” I ask, pulling out a few quid from my pockets.

Rhys rolls his eyes again, shakes his head, then reaches into his pockets as well.

“Deal.”

 

_Rhys_

We’re standing next to the Leavers Ball banner, and I just dropped my drink. Gareth is literally doubled over, laughing at my shocked expression and the punch stain that may never come out of my shoes.

“Pay up, buddy,” he says, holding out his hand to me.

“Fuck you, Gareth.”


End file.
